Saturday, December 3, 2016

Seriously Slow

Worrying about worrying. Now that will keep you up. Turn your hair gray. Trying not to worry- that's worse. I'm no good at drinking any more. Maybe I never was. I've gotten what I wanted, what I needed, from drugs. 

Now it's me and the dog and the rock'n'roll.

This is what I've always secretly longed for.

"What?" you ask, "Sitting around in your underwear ending sentences with prepositions?"

Don't toy with me.

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